Back to the Basement
by black.n.blu
Summary: Sequel to The Basement. Jordan and Nigel are inseparable, but that doesn't stop Woody from doing all he can to pull them apart. How does Jordan handle it? NJ.
1. Confrontation

Yay! I'm writting again! ...ahem.

This is the sequal to _The Basement_ and takes place a week or so afterwards. Nigel and Jordan are still together, Woody's still an idiot, etc. Lol.

Remember how fast I updated _The Basement_? Well, I can't update so fast this time. I've gotten a whole lot busier since then, and can't find as much time to write. So the chapters of this one are probably gonna come out a LOT slower. Sorry...

_The Basement _and _Back to the Basement_, as well as all of my other fics so far, are written on no particular timeline, neither before nor after any certain episode. So yes, Max is there, simply because I like him and I want him to be there. (The same is true for the story _Return_)

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan, but I put it on my Christmas list

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**Back to the Basement **

**Chapter 1: Confrontation**

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- Jordan -**

I awoke to find Nigel beside me, each moist breath of his playing around my neck, his arms around me warmly. I smiled.

"Nige?" I whispered. I didn't know if he was awake yet.

"Morning love," he whispered back, giving me my answer. I turned to face him, and we kissed briefly. Then I slid out of bed and walked across the floor of my apartment to the closet, changing in the bathroom and replacing my pajamas with today's clothes. Nigel was sitting on the edge of the bed when I returned, and I walked over and sat next to him, staring for a moment at the thin scar on his neck.

"You want some breakfast love?" he asked. "I could whip some up before we leave." I shook my head.

"It's alright, I'll make myself some coffee. You should go home and change." He nodded.

"You're probably right. You'll be okay getting to work? I can pick you up if you like. I know you love motorcycle rides."

"That sounds great," I agreed, and both of us were smiling now.

Fifteen minutes later, Nigel and I were speeding down the road, my arms around his waist and my head laid against his back. We pulled into the morgue parking lot and walked in together. As the elevator opened on our floor, we were immediately greeted by Lily, who was passing, and who smiled as she walked away. Of all those at the morgue, Lily seemed to be the happiest for Nigel and I. We separated and headed in different directions, Nigel to his office, and me to Garret's.

"Hey Gar," I said enthusiastically as I walked in. "What've you got for me?" He looked up and gave one of his usual half-smiles.

"Hi Jordan," he said, reaching to hand me a file. "Slow day today, but I saved an autopsy for you. Old woman, died of an apparent heart attack. You and Nigel are working this one together." Garret was another who gave his full support towards Nigel and me, putting us together on most of the autopsies since our return. Perhaps this was why work had suddenly become so much more enjoyable. I smiled at him.

"Thanks Gar." He nodded, giving another half-smile, and I walked away.

We finished the autopsy fairly quickly. Even with Nigel and I working together, it was extremely boring. I'd been half hoping for a murder, or at least something unusual, just to break the monotony. Instead I got a cranky old woman who lived alone and had died, as Garret said, of a heart attack. He'd been right about it being a slow day as well; I eventually found myself left with nothing to do except resign to the large pile of paperwork accumulating on my desk. I sighed as I pulled the first sheet from the top of the stack. Yet I had barely started, when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I called. The door opened, and I heard someone walk in. I thought at first that it was Nigel, but he didn't say anything, just stood there. So I turned to face him. My smiled turned into a cold look however as I saw that it was not Nigel, but Woody. I realized that I should have known.

"What?" I asked stiffly.

"Hey," he said. There was a pause.

"Did you need something?" I asked, just as stiffly.

"I wanted to see how you were doing," he said sincerely, but I didn't need this.

"I don't have time to talk," I said, turning back to my desk. "I have work to do."

"Oh c'mon Jordan, you hate doing paperwork."

"Well maybe things have changed." There was another pause.

"Some things never change," he said finally, and without waiting for a response, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

I sighed and bent my head, breathing deeply to calm myself. Every day it seemed, he tried to get closer to me, tried to get me to let him in. I never would, and yet his continuous pressing and nagging was becoming almost intolerable. Maybe it was because when I was truly honest with myself, I realized that I missed him. I missed the Woody he had been before, my old friend. I missed his laugh, his sense of humor, the part of him that faded a long time ago. It was only the love that we had shared at one point and oh-so-briefly that I didn't miss.

Nigel was the only one to whom I had talked to about Woody. He understood my frustration, and always showed his support and care, without which things would have been even more unbearable than they already were. But even with his help, I still was unsure of how long I'd be able to stand him and his nagging, which was becoming increasingly frequent. I sighed again and once more started on the large pile of work in front of me.

**- Nigel –**

I finished what little paperwork I had left and quickly found myself with nothing to do. I decided to get myself a cup of coffee, which was never any good here. Most of us drank it anyways however, either to occupy ourselves, or else to stock up on caffeine. The former was the reason I left my office at that moment, though I forgot about it the instant I cleared the doorway. Woodrow Hoyt was walking down the hall, in the unmistakably opposite direction of Jordan's office. He gave me a scathing look as he brushed past, and I knew immediately what was up. He had just been to see her…again. I walked quickly in the direction that he had just come from and peered through the office window. She was doing paperwork, or at least attempting to. I doubted she was getting much done, and decided to give her a reason to procrastinate. I knocked.

"Go away! I told you I'm busy!" she yelled. I cracked the door open.

"Easy love," I said. "It's me." Immediately she sped her chair in a circle to face me.

"Oh, hi Nige. Sorry, I thought you were…never mind. What's up?" She smiled quite convincingly, though still I looked at her, slightly worried.

"He's been bugging you again hasn't he?" I asked quietly. She opened her mouth immediately as if to assure me that there wasn't a problem when there clearly was, but closed it again as we stared at each other.

"Yes!" she burst out quite suddenly, turning her chair back to her desk. "He's such an asshole; he just can't leave me alone!" She leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. I took two long strides across the room and knelt at her side, the way I had done just before she was kidnapped only a week or so ago, though she wasn't crying this time. I put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

"He'll stop eventually," I said soothingly. "It'll just take some time. And until then, you can always talk to me about it." She covered my hand with her own and looked at me. I gave her a small smile, which she returned.

"Thanks," she said.

"Anytime love." Then I grinned broadly. "How about you take a break from that paperwork and we go have lunch together."

"What did I ever do without you?" she asked, her grin not quite matching my own, but smiling more broadly all the same.

"You got me there love!" I replied. She gave a small laugh, and we stood together. Then she put a hand on my shoulder, I wrapped my arm around her waist, and we walked out.

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Yay! Review please! And an extra thanks to all those who R&R-ed _The Basement_! It really encourages me to keep going! And once again, I apollogize for my lack of knowledge on anything. I'm not the most observant person in the world, or the best speller. Lol.  



	2. Plan

**KittyDoggyLover- Thanks much! It's great to hear that!**

**rae1112- Nah, you didn't miss anything. Like I said, I'm updating slowly. Hope you enjoy it though!**

**peridotstone823- yeah, I like to make Woody suffer like that evil laugh lol.**

**eternalgorithm- yay!**

**Mac3- Thanks, patience will be needed. Everyone is accepting...except Woody. LOL**

Alright, I was originally going to have the format of this story be similar to that of _The Basement, _with Jordan, then Nigel, then Jordan, then Nigel, etc. But then I realized that that wouldn't work. This story is mostly about Jordan, so most of it will be from Jordan's POV. I may add Nigel back in again later. We'll see.

Thanks for the reviews so far!

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**Back to the Basement**

**Chapter 2: Plan**

- Jordan –

The next few days, thank God, were much busier. Nigel and I both found ourselves pulling doubles as more unlucky victims came in. Naturally I had my cell off to prevent any distractions. When I turned it back on later, I found no less than eight messages on it. The only two that weren't from Woody were from Dad, calling to make sure I was alright, to say that Woody had called him looking for me, and that if he was bothering me he'd take care of it. I couldn't help but smile at the way he said that, and was tempted to take his offer, but I knew I could handle it. I wouldn't drag Dad into my own affairs.

Nigel came to my apartment again that night for a late dinner. Though he seemed in the mood to talk, I remained nearly silent. He noticed, but didn't press me on it. On the contrary, he pretty much stopped talking as well, only asking yes or no questions, so that I could simply nod or shake my head. It was at times like this when I loved him the most. After dinner, we sat on my couch and listened to music. I wasn't paying attention to it however. I was thinking about Woody, wondering how to get him to leave me alone.

"What's on your mind love?" Nigel asked suddenly. I looked at him for a bit, looked at the scar on his neck, and opened my mouth to answer. Then my cell phone rang. I let my breath escape in a long low sigh and shut my mouth again.

"You want me to get that love?" Nigel asked. I nodded, and he stood to retrieve it from the counter. "Jordan's cell phone," I heard him say. "Yeah, she's here. Alright, hold on." He reached over, handing it to me. "It's Woody," he whispered, slightly worried. I nodded.

"Hello?" I said.

"Jordan, it's me," he answered.

"What?"

"I was just calling to talk to you."

"I sorta figured that out on my own."

"Don't be a smart-ass Jordan!"

"Well I'm sorry, but that happens to be a part of who I am, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to change that. In fact," I said angrily, "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop bugging me altogether!"

"You could at least hear me out!" he replied.

"You don't want me to hear you out, you want me to forgive you and run back crying into your arms! And let's face it, you only want that because you think  
I'm hot!" I heard Nigel give a small snort of laughter.

"Who said I think you're hot?" asked Woody.

"You did!" I said exasperatedly. Nigel snorted again.

"Well," sputtered Woody, "Well you'd be better off than you are with Nigel!" I felt my fists clench.

"We've already had this discussion Woody," I said, more quietly, trying to keep my voice as even as possible.

"Have you ever seen the way he looks at you?" Woody continued, ignoring my comment. "The guy's a pathetic stalker!" This shocked me so much that I found myself momentarily paralyzed.

When I could finally say something I said, "Shut up! How can you even say that? You're the one who won't leave me alone! If anyone is stalking me, it's you Woodrow Hoyt! For the last time, leave me alone!" I was easily shouting by the end. I quickly hung up, though he called back a few seconds later, and I turned the whole phone off. I was so angry that I went to chuck it across the room, but Nigel quickly grabbed my arm to stop me.

"You'd regret it later love," he said softly. I just stared at him for a moment, before moving quickly into his warm embrace.

"Thanks Nige," I whispered.

"Anytime Jordan," he whispered back. We walked to the couch and sat down together, his arms still around me.

"So," he said after a minute of so of simply sitting there, "Woody called me a stalker?" He sounded amused. I nodded. "You know that's not true, right love?"

"Course I do Nige," I said, looking at him. "I love you."

"I love you too Jordan." He bent down and we kissed.

"Nige," I said as we pulled away. "I think I'm gonna turn in early tonight."

"Yeah, I should go," he said, standing up as I did the same. "I'd really love to stay tonight, but I've got other plans. You sure you'll be alright love?"

"Yeah," I said, doing my best to smile. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?" he said. "Cause I can cancel, no problem…"

"No, it's alright. You go have fun doing whatever."

He sighed and nodded and gave me a final kiss goodbye before heading towards the door. He turned and gave one last small smile, which I returned. Then he closed the door, and was gone. I turned around and walked into my bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed and thinking about what Woody had said. Now that I didn't have Nigel here to comfort me, I was getting angry again. I wondered how best to deal with the detective.

I could talk to Dad, have him take care of it like he said he would. But no, I had already decided that I wouldn't get him involved.

I could file a restraining order. I actually smiled at this thought, yet I knew a restraining order couldn't keep him away to the degree I wanted.

But then how else could I get him to leave me alone? He had become so overbearing that everyday became miserable. He visited me at work, called me at home, left countless messages on my cell, and always seemed to do it at the worst times. I needed to get away from him, more than just physically. My stomach churned as I realized that there was only one option left for me, though not an entirely new one: run.

I would hate to do it, but there was no other way to totally escape him. I stared at my hands as I began to work it out in my head. I didn't know where I would go, just anywhere away from here. Anywhere away from him would work. I knew that Garret wouldn't tolerate it this time, knew that if I went, I couldn't come back, that I would be fired. I would have leave it all behind, my friends, my job, the morgue, and my home.

And Nigel.

I froze where I sat, eyes wide. Somehow, in my anger, I hadn't thought of that yet. I would have to leave Nigel behind, and my heart nearly broke at the thought. I had come to love him so much, how could I simply let him go?

Yet maybe I didn't have to. My heart rose. What if he came with me? He would, I was sure. All I had to do was ask him. Then we could ride off together to who-knows-where, away from Woody, away from everything. We could start over; I was sure that we could find a job together, perhaps even at another morgue, and I would never have to see Woody's face again.

It was then that I realized the absolute selfishness of my plan. I simply couldn't do that to Nigel, couldn't ask him to leave everything and everyone behind because I couldn't deal with Woody. Even if he'd agree to, I wouldn't ask him in the first place. No, if I went, I would go alone. My heart broke again. Was it worth it? No, I decided. It wasn't worth leaving Nigel.

But I would do it anyways.

I couldn't stay, because even with Nigel, Woody was making my life miserable. I had to do something. I stood quickly and nearly ran into the other room. Beside the phone on the counter was a blue pen and a pad of yellow post-its. I scribbled a note to Nigel, explaining my absence and telling him not to worry; apologizing for leaving and assuring him that it wasn't his fault. I stuck this on the inside of the door and then went into my room to pack.

Yep, Jordan being Jordan. Review please! If any facts are messed up, I'd like to know. I'm not Nigel; I don't know every obscure bit of info there is to the world. LOL.


	3. Escape

**rae1112- (steps out from hiding spot and throws away decoy of self, which is covered in tomatoes) I may need more of these, cause if you thought LAST chapter was a cliffie...well, just read this one. (hint hint) lol. I think that the next chapter will have one also, though I'm not sure yet.  
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** Mac3- Yes, it would be rather funny wouldn't it? I just had to add a bit of his character in there last chapter.  
**

Thanks to the two people who sent reviews, though I still know I'm loved by the rest of you. lol. Reviews are really appreciated though, even if it's just a simple "I love it." or "I hate it." though it's nice to know exactly what you love or hate about it. There's no Nigel...or anyone else's POV in here, and there prolly won't be for awhile. Sit tight, he may return.

(huggles Nigel)

Oh, and happy holidays! (Whatever you celebrate!)

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Back to the Basement  
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**Chapter 3: Escape**

- Jordan -

I walked quickly to my car, launching myself inside and throwing my coat haphazardly onto the passenger seat, covering my phone along with a lot of other junk sitting there. I turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Then I paused, leaning my forehead against the hand on the steering wheel, thinking once again about what I was going to do, what it would do to Nigel. It wasn't too late to ask him to come with me. Just one call and he'd be here; I was still sure he'd do it if I asked. Then I shook my head. I wasn't going to tear him away from Boston, not because of my problem with Woody.

Now came the question I'd been avoiding: where would I go?

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, thinking hard. The first place that came to mind was L.A. I actually laughed out loud. That was definitely out. In any case, I didn't want to go quite so far away. Not yet.

Then I though of someplace that I had always wished to visit, and yet had never gotten around to: Washington DC. I'd always wanted to see the monuments and memorials and such. Of all the cities in the country, it had one of the highest death-rates, so work wouldn't be a problem. It wasn't too far away either. I could drive there at least.

I searched the glove compartment for a map, eventually finding the appropriate one. I spread it out in front of me and began to search for the quickest route. After about five or so minutes of tracing my finger along certain roads and lines, and then another five minutes of trying to get the large map to fold back up again, I started my journey.

It was after several long hours of monotonous driving that I realized how tired I was. I stopped to get some gas, for my car and myself. I drove away sipping a cup of coffee. It was past three in the morning when I finally arrived at my destination, and I was exhausted. I found a cheap little motel and made my way quickly inside, collapsing onto the bed as soon as the door had closed. I didn't bother to change.

Tomorrow, I decided, I would go sightseeing, and then maybe start looking for a job and place to live. With that though in mind, I fell asleep.

I enjoyed myself the next day, managing to forget some of my homesickness in the adventure of doing something so new. I took my car to a nearby parking garage and then visited the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, and many other attractions. Though at each and every one, I couldn't help but feel a bit sad that Nigel wasn't here enjoying them with me. I slipped my hand into my sweatshirt pocket and wrapped my fingers around the small picture that I had stuck in there before I left. It was a photo taken of Nigel and I awhile ago. It helped me feel slightly closer to him, though it wasn't the same. Running had never before been this difficult, but that was before I had left someone like Nigel behind. It was afternoon when I couldn't take it any longer and decided to call him.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned it one, eyes widening at the number of messages people had left. There was one from Garret, simply asking where I was, and one from Dad telling me he was worried and that I should call him. Another from Lily told me that she was worried as well. Woody had called me six times, all of his messages sounding more annoyed than worried. Everyone pleaded for me to come home.

Nigel had called three times as well, saying how much he missed me, but also telling me to do what felt right. This surprised me, and yet touched me so much that I actually felt my eyes water. He didn't try and push me to come home as the others had done, but simply requested that I call him so he would know that I was alright. This was all in his first message; the other two were reminding me to call him and that he loved me. When I finished listening I quickly dialed his number. It only rang once.

"Hello?" came his breathless answer. I smiled at the sound of his voice.

"Hey Nige." I heard his intake of breath on the other end.

"Jordan," he said quietly. "Oh God, I've been so worried. Are you alright love?"

"Fine," I said. "I just haven't gotten around to checking my messages. Listen, I'm sorry for leaving, but-"

He cut me off. "Don't explain Jordan, it's alright. But I do miss you. More than I can say right now." He sounded like it, and I found myself feeling extremely guilty. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

"I miss you too," I said. "A lot. But…I dunno, I just need some space right now. Who knows, I may come back." He sighed.

"I hope so," he said. "But you do what you need to do first. And be careful, wherever you are."

"I will," I said. "Don't worry about me."

"Now why would I ever have to worry about you, love?" he asked teasingly, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I smiled too.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you too Jordan." I hung up and sighed. Then, as I went to turn off my cell, it rang again.

"Hello?" I said.

"Jordan!" I heard Woody's voice reply. Dammit, I thought.

"I told you not to bug me," I said coldly.

"Jordan, where the hell are you?" he asked angrily. "Everyone's worried about you!"

"I'm not telling you where I am!" I replied angrily. "You're the reason I ran away in the first place!"

"What? Oh c'mon Jordan-"

"Don't 'c'mon Jordan' me! I'll come back if and when I'm good and ready, and certainly not until you get off my back!"

"You know I can trace this call," he said, ignoring me again. "I _can_ find out where you are."

"Go ahead, but I doubt you'd actually find me anyways," I said. "Or maybe you could just stop being an idiot and leave me alone like I asked you to do in the first place!" I hung up and quickly turned my phone off. I had been seriously thinking of driving back almost right away, until he called and reminded me why I was here in the first place. I sighed and shook my head as if hoping to clear it. Then I stood to call a cab and continue my tour.

My feet hurt at the end of the day as I made my way from where a taxi had dropped me off into the parking garage. The sun was setting quickly and splashes of pink and purple could be seen wherever sky was visible beyond the open garage walls. I passed car after car as I made my way to the elevator. I found as I approached however that it wasn't working. I sighed and pushed my way through a door that would lead me onto the staircases, dragging my aching feet up to the seventh floor. The sky was darker by the time I emerged, and the garage lights had turned on. I shivered in a cold breeze as I passed along the nearest car. It was as I reached the main aisle way and was about to turn to walk upwards that I saw him.

A man was standing across from me. He was dirty, with short black hair and a single earring in his right ear. He wore faded jeans and a worn jacked. He also carried a small shovel, and I knew this could mean nothing good. He was walking slowly towards me, shovel raised, his eyes fixed on mine.

"What do you want?" I asked with as much authority as I could.

"Your money," he said gruffly. Great, I thought. I was being mugged. Quickly I pulled off my purse and tossed it in his direction. "Thanks," he said, but kept coming, his eyes never leaving mine.

"What else do you want?" I asked, my heart beating faster as he got nearer.

"I don't like leaving witnesses," he said. So now I was being mugged _and_ murdered. I was backing up now, and didn't bother to look over my shoulder as I began to pass a car. I knew there was nowhere to run, that I would soon be backed into a wall and then it would be over. I couldn't think of a way to talk myself out of this one. I was trapped. I wondered how the others would take it when my body was found; how Nigel would take it. My eyes began to water as I though of him. I had already left him behind in Boston, and now I would leave him behind for good. I regretted my decision to run more strongly than ever before. If only I had known that I would never see him again. At least the last thing he had heard from me was that I love him…

My back suddenly hit solid stone. I was out of time. But I wouldn't go without a fight. I watched, prepared for the worst as he slowly closed in on me. Then, a few feet away, he raised the shovel, preparing to swing. I tensed, ready. He suddenly brought it swishing through the air, strait at my head. I ducked and swerved just in time; it hit the wall behind me with a clang that echoed eerily though the silent parking garage. I ran, sprinting along the wall, all hint of tiredness forgotten. I maneuvered around car fronts as he ran easily along in the wide open space behind them, only a few feet behind me. Yet I was fast running out of options, the corner of the room was drawing ever closer, and there was nowhere to go from there, and in any case, I couldn't run forever. I was simply buying time now.

Yet I realized that my luck may run out sooner, before I even reached the corner. Though most of the cars were parked with at least a foot or so between the nose and the wall, one was parked so close that there was no way I could squeeze by. Even worse was that it was a truck, too high for me to easily jump on and slide across. Even if I tried, it would take too much time.

_Think Cavanaugh…_

Then I got an idea. I continued sprinting towards the oncoming truck, preparing myself as it drew nearer. Then, as I reached a car parked so close next to it that I could jump from one to the other, that's exactly what I did. I quickly leaped onto the grungy hood of the white Honda and jumped, landing on all fours on the shiny red front of the truck. I promptly slid across the smooth surface and landed on the other side. I took off as soon as my feat hit the floor, trying to gain the distance lost between him and me. I smiled slightly, the way Nigel would if he could have seen the almost Matrix-like move I had performed a few seconds ago. Then again, there were security cameras, so he might be able to after all. I could only hope that he'd be proud of my effort.

My heard was pounding madly as I finally reached the corner and spun round, watching as he came closer, more slowly than before, and yet still far too quickly. I tensed again as he swung the shovel upwards; dodged as it flew towards my head. I tried to duck sideways and take off again, but he flew out an arm to prevent my escape. I struggled as he pushed me back against the wall; he was a lot stronger than I was. Then I watched, horrified, as his right arm raised the shovel, his left still pinning me to the stone.

I wasn't struggling anymore, simply watching. As he swung the shovel for a third time, I lay my head back against the cool stone wall and closed my eyes, bracing myself. A split second later I felt it collide painfully with the side of my head. I gave a cry and fell sideways, landing hard. Now it hit me again in the side, but I didn't cry out. I could feel my consciousness slipping away. Everything was blurry, but I could see the red. It was as I closed my eyes again and felt yet another hit to my side with the shovel that I heard it.

"Jordan! Jordan!"

Someone was calling my name. I couldn't recognize the voice in my current state, but it sounded more than scared; it was terrified, panicked. I wanted to call out, to tell the voice where I was; for whomever it was to find me, to help me.

"Put the shovel down! Put it down! Jordan!" The voice continued shouting, yelling, though I could no longer understand what it was saying. Then it stopped, I heard a gunshot, and all went black.

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(Hides from rae1112 and calls from hiding spot: Review please!)  



	4. Darkness

**eternalgorithm- maybe...maybe not...you'll find out. Not in this chapter, but perhaps in the next one...**

**KittyDoggyLover- I guess I'll say it again as well- Thank you! And Merry Christmas to you too! (a bit late, but oh well.)**

**rae1112- eep! (summons broomstick and flies away) Can you tell I like Harry Potter? lol. Seriously, if you think LAST chapter was a cliffie...I think I really am going to die after you read this one. (Here we go again I suppose...) And I've been to Washington DC as well, but it was a family trip a year or so ago.**

**Mac3- Thanks, it's great to hear that. I was hoping to get the characters right. (Though I'm still working on Jordan...)**

This chapter is VERY short, and is basically just a tension-builder, a sort of cliffie in itself. It's from this chapter that you know everything will change...but I won't say anymore about that.**  
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Thank you once again for your reviews, it's wonderful to hear what you have to say. Now with out further ranting...**  
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Back to the Basement **

**Chapter 4: Darkness**

- Jordan -

_beep…beep…_

It was this constant and irritating noise that first brought me to consciousness. I groaned. God, my head hurt. I finally gave in and opened my eyes. Then I blinked. I had thought that the beeping meant I was in a hospital, and yet it was so dark that I couldn't see a thing. But this had to be a hospital. I was in a bed, I could feel the IV in my arm, and that beeping was definitely coming from a heart monitor. But why was it so dark? I shivered, which was painful, and closed my eyes. I felt like I was back in the basement again.

I heard the distant sound of a door opening and footsteps. Then someone gently took my hand.

"Jordan," he whispered. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized it was Nigel. There was no way to describe the happiness I felt at having him here.

"Nigel," I whispered, squeezing his hand softly. I was in a lot of pain. "I'm sorry."

Don't apologize Jordan. Just get better and come home." I could hear the pain in his voice, and suddenly felt very guilty for causing it.

"I will," I said, opening my eyes again. It was still pitch black, and I had to ask. "Nige, why is it so dark?" He took a few seconds to respond.

"It's not dark in here Jordan. It's quite bright actually."

Huh?

That made no sense. If it was bright then why couldn't I see anything? The truth hit me then, as hard and as painfully as the shovel.

"Nigel," I whispered shakily, trying to hold off the tears through my shock. "I think I'm blind..."

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( You find that black.n.blu is gone because she is hiding from the wrath of rae, but as you approach you find a small post-it note lying abandon on the ground. Curious, you pick it up and eventually make out black.n.blu's messy handwriting:

_Review please!_ )


	5. Blind

**Mac3- Yes, twisting is fun!**

**peridotstone823- Thanks, it's fun being evil in fanfiction cause it has no effect on the actual show. You will find out if she's blind, and in the meantime, (hides arms)**

**hmmmm- (blink) wow...I'm honored. Thanks. I'm updating as fast as I can, but writer's block apparently doesn't care if people are waiting, and has struck me anyways. Lol. Oh, and I love the mouse part.**

**KittyDoggyLover- Yeah, we do. Oh well, it's fun that way.**

**rae1112- Yeah, I'm having fun. (slaps Woody) It was his fault... And yes, we did good, livened up the story a bit. Lol. I shall NEVER stop the cliffies! Muahaha! Actually, I don't think this one's really a cliffie, and it's longer. hehe...car keys...**

**Silas Quinn- Yeah, he was okay in the first few seasons (which happen to be showing on A&E right now), but then he just went cold in my opinion. I just decided to overdo it. LOL. I love the J/N pairing, and it really is the only Jordan pairing out there for me. (Though I do like L/B as well!)**

**cavanaugh-girl- yeah sorry, like I said above, I just felt like overdoing it with this one. Hehe...**

Yeah, sorry for leaving you all hanging, and the last chapter was short, I know. This one's longer. Enjoy, and as always, reviews are appreciated!

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**Back to the Basement**

**Chapter 5: Blind**

- Jordan –

It took awhile for the truth to set in. Nigel immediately called for a doctor, who told us that I had sustained some apparent brain damage, which caused my loss of sight. Yet there was no way to tell if it was temporary or not. I was only barely listening, trying to take it in, to accept the fact that I may never see again. Never see waves wash upon the beach, never see the fiery leaves of autumn, never again see Nigel's face, smiling warmly.

He held my hand the whole time the doctor talked, seemingly determined to show his support. He knew what it meant for me to lose my sight. For one thing, I couldn't work at the morgue anymore. Performing autopsies required the ability to see.

I cried a lot as the doctor left. Nigel kept a firm grip on my hand, stroking my hair gently. I heard him sniff a few times, so he may have been crying as well. There was no way to know. I kept my eyes closed, making it slightly easier to handle the complete darkness. Eventually, despite my constant throbbing headache, I fell asleep.

I was in the hospital for a long time, though that didn't stop others from visiting me every day. Garret, Lily, Bug, and Dad all came to see me a several times, making the long trip from Boston with each visit and always offering whatever help they could. Dad and Lily were in tears at first, and Bug was as good a friend as ever, though Garret offered possibly the best comfort of the four of them.

"You won't have to leave the morgue," he said. "Things will be different, but as long as you want to stay, we'll find a place for you."

I was slightly surprised that Woody never turned up, though I strongly suspected that he would have if it weren't for the others, that they had probably prevented him from coming for my benefit, and I was grateful. Nigel had taken a room at a motel nearby and visited every day, always staying, sometimes for hours, to talk and comfort me, sometimes just to sit and hold my hand or, as I got better, keep his arm around me. No on was mad at me for running, and only Nigel brought it up.

"Why'd you go Jordan?" he asked one day.

"I told you in my note," I said. "You did get it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I got it. I just…had to make sure it wasn't something I'd done." He said this last part in a rush.

"No!" I said quickly. "No, of course not Nige. I said it wasn't because of you and I meant it. It hurt to leave you, a lot, but I didn't want you to get dragged into my personal issues. It was something I had to deal with."

"I understand." He sighed. "Though I would have gone with you."

"I know," I said. Then I asked something that had been bugging me for a long time. "Who found me?"

"Pardon?"

"I was attacked by that guy with the shovel, but someone rescued me. I heard them calling my name, but I don't remember their voice. Do you know who it was?" He let out a long low sigh.

"It was me," he said finally.

"You?" I asked, shocked.

"Yeah. I- now don't be mad at me- I traced your phone call and followed you to DC." Then he added, "I wasn't going to try and bring you back, just join you." There was a moment of stunned silence, and then I laughed. He had done exactly what Woody threatened to do.

"You're not mad?" he asked apprehensively.

"No," I said. "I mean, you saved my life, which I guess was just a huge stroke of luck?"

"Yeah," he said. "I figured you'd be dead tired when you got there, so I stopped at the first cheap little motel I saw and asked for you. The guy at front said you'd left that morning. So I went to the garage nearest the motel, and you just happened to be there when I pulled through." I was amazed.

"But how'd you stop him? I mean…" I probed my memory. "I heard a gunshot." There was an even longer, and much more awkward pause.

"You wouldn't think it'd be so hard," he said finally. "I mean, I was in the Royal Navy after all. But the truth is I'd never actually killed a man before. Yet when I saw you there on the ground…and the blood…" He lapsed into silence.

"Will you be alright?" I asked.

"Legally, yeah. It was self defense, and the security cameras caught it all."

"And otherwise?" He paused again.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll be fine." He gave my hand a small squeeze, which I returned.

"Did you ever watch the security tapes?" I asked.

"I did," he said. "You put up a good fight. I was impressed." I gave a half smile and he squeezed my hand again. We sat in silence for the rest of his visit.

Everyone was there to greet me when I was released from the hospital. I didn't know this however until Nigel pointed it out as he rolled my wheelchair into the waiting room. I was immediately hugged by Dad and then Lily, who were soon followed by Garret and Bug each putting a hand on my shoulder. Woody, I was told, wasn't there.

Finally, I was able to stand and walk again, though only with Nigel's arm to guide me. My new disability was impossible to get used to. I felt as if I was standing in an endless sea of darkness that spread for miles all around me, and yet oddly confined at the same time. Either way, I felt alone, even with Nigel there. I looked to him for full comfort now, which he never failed to provide. He agreed to move in with me, at least for awhile. I would need help with the simplest of everyday life. I hated being so helpless.

Nigel walked slowly to the hospital doors, dragging both a heavy suitcase, and me. I clung to him, fearing that I would run into or trip over something with every step. But he did his job well, leading me near perfectly with only a stumble or two. I was in an eternal trust-walk from now on.

I didn't talk much as we made the drive home, though Nigel did. He babbled on about trivial things, and I didn't mind. In fact, I was glad. I needed to hear his voice to distract me. When we finally arrived, he led me slowly up to my floor and opened the door for me. I'd never have thought that my own apartment could feel so alien, but it did. Every step, every turn, I felt like I was going to knock something over. That first day was the worst.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Nigel asked. There was a pause. "Or," he said quickly, correcting his mistake, "we could listen to some music?" I gave him a small smile. He helped me get settled on the couch and then went to pop in a CD.

"I'll be right back," he said, and I heard him make his way to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later and setting something down on the table. He pressed a warm mug into my hands and I the smelled the sweet aroma of coffee rising from it. I smiled and took a sip, grateful that he somehow knew how I took my coffee. He sat down and draped an arm over my shoulders. I heard him take a sip from his own mug. It was impossible to tell how much time passed as we sat there, though our drinks disappeared fairly quickly.

"What time is it?" I asked after awhile.

"9:30," he said, and then added quickly, "at night. You want to go to work tomorrow?" I shrugged.

"Sure," I said half-heartedly. Nigel gave me a squeeze.

"Dr. M will find a place for you, love. Don't worry about it." I nodded, then sighed and leaned back into him, laying my head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me.

"Love?" he asked after about ten more minutes of silence. "You awake?"

"Barely," I muttered.

"You want to go to bed now?"

"Yeah." Gently he lifted and carried me, as he had done so many times before, to my bedroom, sitting me on the edge of the bed. Then I felt him sit next to me.

"I'll get your pajamas, shall I?" I nodded and heard him get up and walk away. He came back and lay the clothing across my lap. "I'll get changed as well. You got it love?"

"Yeah." I smiled. "Thanks Nige." He put his hand briefly on my shoulder and then I heard him leave, closing the door behind him with a snap. I sighed, then slowly pulled off my clothes and slipped carefully into the pajamas. At least I could still get dressed on my own. Nigel came back a minute later and we slid into bed together.

"Night Jordan," he whispered.

"Night Nigel." I drifted into sleep.

…

_It was cold._

_I stood in a dark room, the only light source a door up a flight of stairs. A man stood before me, aiming a gun at my chest. _

_So very cold…_

"_So you're going to kill me?" I asked him. He smiled._

"_Eventually," he said._

_Then Nigel appeared nearby. I tried to reach out, to put my arms around him so that he could hold me and keep me warm. But he was walking away, walking towards Mitchell, where there hung a rope over a small stool. I tried to call out to him, to tell him he mustn't go there, mustn't let himself be hung._

_But now Mitchell had tied the rope around Nigel's neck. He stood on the stool, smiling and saying that everything would be alright. I wanted to scream, to yell, to make him realize that it wouldn't be alright._

"_You will kick the stool," said Mitchell._

"No," I said. "No."

"_You have to," said Mitchell. "Or I'll kill the hostage!" He pointed his gun in a different direction. I looked and saw Woody sitting there, tied to a chair._

" _Jordan__!" he called. "Don't let him kill me Jordan! Kill Nigel! He's a stalker anyways! Kill him!"_

"No!" I said again, more strongly.

"_Do it!" shouted Mitchell. I felt my foot lift, felt it brace against the rim of the stool._

"_Do it!"_

_I pushed. The stool fell away, and so did Nigel. Everything fell into blackness as the light went out…_

…

"NO!" I shouted. I opened my eyes to find myself still engulfed in darkness. Where was I? I flailed my arms, trying to find him, find something…

" Jordan!" I heard Nigel say loudly from beside me. I felt his arms wrap themselves around me, and I remembered everything. I wasn't in the basement. I was at home, in bed with Nigel, drenched in cold sweat. We were both safe.

And I was blind.

I relaxed and fell into his grip, crying. He held me tightly, gently stroking my hair and whispering in my ear.

"It's alright Jordan, it was a dream. Just a nightmare. It's over now…"

When I could speak again, I said, "I thought…I thought I was in the basement. When I woke up it was black. I forgot, and I thought we were still down there…" It was that night when I first realized it, realized that though we had left the basement behind, I would now carry it's darkness with me forever. I had gone back down, back to the basement, and I would be stuck there as long as I was blind.

We sat like that for awhile, until finally, as I stopped crying, we lay down and I fell asleep in his arms. I didn't dream again that night.

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Alright, now that you all know that she is blind, I can say some things. First of all, I have no idea what it's really like to be blind, as I myself am not, nor do I know what a newly-blind person may go through. I'm guessing. Second, if I make a mistake and describe something in Jordan's POV that she couldn't know (like Nigel nodding) tell me, cause I tend to do that. Thanks!


	6. There's No Place Like Home 3

**Mac3- Course, Nige always saves the day, well, almost always. **

**Too late to change me- Thank you, I wanted to do something different, and I've never seen anyone blind her before. It also worked nicely, cause it made a good sequal, which I'd been wondering how to do.**

**pryrmtns- yeah, I've been lookin stuff up. It's helped too.**

** cavanaugh-girl- N/J! WOO!**

**KittyDoggyLover- Yes, its fun to make characters suffer. Lol.**

**rae1112, yes i know who- yeah, and thanks. the world of fanfiction is always cruel. lol.**

**peridotstone823- At first it _was _gonna be Woody that saved her (though she still wouldn't have forgiven him) but Nigel worked better. **

**carosu- thank you. I like trying new things.**

Hey there! Sorry for the delay, writer's block has struck again, and I think it's still striking, cause I'm still a bit stuck. Oh well, it'll work out eventually. Oh, and Happy New year!

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Back to the Basement  
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**Chapter 6: There's No Place Like Home 3**

- Jordan -

I went with Nigel to work the next day. He guided me carefully through the halls, where we were greeted cheerfully by both Bug and Lily. He led me into Garret's office, and I sat down.

"It's good to see you up and about again Jordan," he said somewhere across from me. I gave a half-hearted smile.

"If you can call this up and about," I replied. My own voice sounded different, even to me. It was strangely dull, almost lifeless. Garret must've heard it as well.

"Things will get easier," he said kindly. "It'll take awhile, but they will. In the meantime I've got a place for you." I gave a nod as half-hearted as my smile.

He was right about one thing at least; he had found me a place. I was to work mostly with Nigel, aiding him and assisting autopsies. Since I couldn't do any physical work, Nigel and I put our heads together to figure things out. It wasn't as bad as I had imagined, though I missed being able to do the autopsies on my own, and couldn't banish the feeling, that I wasn't really helping at all.

My old job wasn't the only thing I missed. I missed watching TV the way I used to, being able to walk around on my own, jogging on sunny days, and reading. I had loved to read, though it wasn't what I did most often, mostly because I just didn't have the time, Now however, I couldn't at all. I had to get books on tape or CD from the library, or else ask Nigel to read to me, which he would. I had to admit, he was good at it. He'd change his voice for different characters, sometimes attempting different accents as well, and basically made everything more exciting than someone on a CD ever could.

He noticed how I missed reading on my own however, and suggested that I learn braille. I thought this was a good idea; it would take away some of the helplessness that I was feeling almost constantly.

It was hard at first, even with Nigel helping and learning along with me. I just couldn't get the hang of all the little bumps. Eventually, as I practiced during time off, I started picking it up, getting better. Finally I had all the letters down, and sentences became easier. New possibilities opened. Garret began to get files printed with braille in addition to plain ink, so that I could now help with filing as well. This wasn't much better than paperwork, but it kept me busy at least.

One day, as Nigel led me into my apartment, which had become considerably easier to navigate by now, it became clear that he had something up his sleeve, because as he shut the door he said, "Wait right here love," and I could hear the smile in his voice. He walked away for a moment, and then I heard him come back and set something down.

"What's this about Nige?" I asked as he returned to my side.

"I got something for you," he said excitedly. He led me to a chair and I sat down, wondering what he had planned. One could never be quite sure when Nigel was concerned. He took my hands in his and placed them on something in front of me. This was what he'd been carrying, I thought.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Guess," he said. I could tell that he was grinning, and decided to play along. I ran my hands up the object's side. It was wide, made of metal. Further up, the metal ended and I felt the sharp edge of a piece of paper curling inwards. I moved my hands down again to feel the front of it, and found row upon row of small, raised buttons. I let my fingers glide gently over each one, and realized that they were all marked with a different braille letter or number.

"It's a typewriter," I said, slightly surprised.

"Brilliant eh?" Nigel replied happily. "A bit old fashioned, but it works just as well. And it'll give you something to do. I know how you love to read, so I thought maybe you could try your hand at writing." He then proceeded to show me how it worked, guiding my hands and teaching me how to remove and change the paper and such. Then he let me test it. I punched in a sentence and then reached up to touch the paper. I felt the words, 'my name is jordan cavanaugh' punched there. I smiled, more naturally than I had smiled in weeks.

"Thanks Nige." He gave my shoulder a squeeze, and then moved his long arms around me to type something as well. When he finished I reached up to feel what he had typed there: "you're welcome love"

I laughed and typed a response. He had become nearly as good at reading braille as me, and we amused ourselves for awhile, talking to each other through the typewriter, going through nearly three sheets of paper before giving up and laughing together. For a long time, we couldn't stop.

Life itself was slowly becoming easier, as Garret had said it would. I was almost used to the darkness now, and was surprised when I realized that I had been blind for nearly two months. I had begun talking to Stiles as well, and annoying as he could be, I found that the sessions helped a lot, the way they always did when you finally clued him in to what was wrong. The days had turned slowly cooler as time passed.

I spent a lot of free time at my new typewriter. I had taken Nigel's suggestion and tried writing, finding to my own surprise that not only was it enjoyable, but I was good at it. At first I simply did it to pass the time, an escape from reality. Then Nigel began reading my short stories, and enjoying them. He typed them up on a normal computer for others to read as well, and even Garret, who apparently had some experience in writing, said that I had talent.

The dream had come back a few times since that first night. Each time it was the same; Mitchell, then Nigel, then Woody, all telling me to kick the stool, to kill him. Each time I would wake up in the familiar darkness, confused, drenched in cold sweat. And each time, Nigel was there to wrap his arms around me comfortingly. I welcomed them gratefully, wishing that I could escape the painful reminders of everything that had gone wrong.

Work started becoming more and more annoying as I began feeling like more of a hindrance than a help. I knew that if I were any other random person, I would have had to leave for losing my sight, but I knew that Garret had a soft spot with my name on it. Though I knew where everything was and could easily get from one room to another on my own, the halls were always so busy that I needed an escort anyways, simply to keep me from bumping into people. This was why I preferred working at night, when the halls were emptier and I could navigate without worry, using the new cane that Nigel had gotten me. Though it was nice to continue working with him, I still felt like he was doing the vast majority of the work, no matter how much he insisted that I was of great help to him. Feeling useless was almost as bad as feeling helpless.

I was in one of these useless moods as I sat at my desk on afternoon, fingers flashing on my typewriter, which I had moved to the morgue, and listening to rain hitting the windows. I heard the door open, and then Nigel's voice.

"Hey love," he said cheerfully. "We've got work in autopsy one. Care to join?"

"What's the point?" I said glumly, not bothering to cease my frantic typing. "You do well enough without me anyways."

"Oh c'mon Jordan, I've told you…" but I cut him off.

"Yeah," I burst out angrily, spinning my chair to face him, "you've said that I'm a 'big help', but we both know that I don't really do anything useful. If I were anyone else I wouldn't be here right now. Garret only kept me on because he feels sorry for me, only pays me because he knows I have nowhere else to go!" I turned back around, fuming.

"That's not true." Nigel insisted quietly. I realized that I hadn't really been talking to him at all, but really ranting to myself. The calm sincerity in which he said it threw me off guard, and I suddenly felt sorry for having gone off at him like that. I bent my head and sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, head in my hands. "I didn't mean to yell." He walked over and put a comforting hand on my shoulder, which I covered with my own.

"You're still feeling helpless aren't you?" he asked quietly. I nodded. Stiles wasn't the only one I had confided my feelings to. "Well, I may be able to help," he continued. "Tell you what; you help me with this autopsy and then we ask for the rest of the day off. It's a slow day anyways, Dr. M won't mind." I nodded again and stood, letting Nigel lead me towards autopsy one.

Garret gave us the rest of the day, as Nigel said he would, and we headed back to my apartment. The rain had stopped and he told me that the sun had crept out. I could tell, I could feel the warmth of it shining on my face. It wasn't as cold today, and I needed nothing but a light sweatshirt. Once home, Nige closed the door and I went to sit on the couch, feeling him join me a moment later.

"Alright," he said. "I've been doing some research, and found a few things that may help you. For one-" he put something into my hands, and I recognized it immediately as my purse.

"So that's where this went," I said. "I was lookin for it."

"Open it," he said. I did, reaching inside to pull out some of the money within, except that I found that the bills were different. They were all folded in different ways. "I took the liberty of organizing your money," said Nigel happily. "So now you can recognize it on your own." I was surprised, but gave him a small smile all the same. Previously he had done my shopping with me, and though I could tell coins apart, he had handled the bills. He continued to explain what each one meant.

"The ones have been left unfolded, the fives are folded lengthwise, the tens are folded in half the other way, and the twenties are folded by both length and width." I moved my fingers over each one, identifying them for him while he confirmed my guesses, grinning from ear to ear I was sure.

"Thanks Nige," I said as I finished going through all of the notes in my purse. He touched my hand gently, and I smiled.

"C'mon," he said, standing and taking my arm. "I've got something else to show you." He led me back out of my apartment, locking the door behind us, and took me outside.

"Where are we going?" I asked, bemused.

"Not far love," he replied. "Just…here." We stopped and he faced me towards the building. "Put your hand out love," he said. I did, reaching forward, but feeling only air. "Lower."

I bent as I brought my arm down. I felt my hand brush against something smooth, and ran my fingers over it. Then I edged closer and felt my foot touch something hard and skinny.

"A bicycle?" I asked, confused. Nigel chuckled.

"Sort of," he said. "Keep going." I leaned even further and felt, to my even greater surprise, another bicycle seat.

"It's a bicycle for two," I said, catching on, and looking up in Nigel's general direction.

"I figured that you needed some way to get exercise," he said brightly. "Care to test it with me?"

"I love you Nige," I said as he began to pull it out. He chuckled and helped me onto the backseat.

"I love you too Jordan."

We rode around Boston for several enjoyable hours, Nigel warning me of turns and changes in terrain. It was great to feel the wind whipping at my face as we moved along at high speeds through what Nigel told me was a park. By the time we got back to my apartment I was both exhausted and in much higher spirits then before.

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Yay! Review please! 


	7. He's After Her

**Mac3- Thank you, I'm putting up chapters as fast as I can. I think the writer's block may be gone, but you can never be sure. The next chapter will probably come a bit quicker.**

**KittyDoggyLover- yeah, the two-person bike idea came from a website for dealing with blindness. (I did a bit of research.) So did the folding money idea.**

**raven- Because you're you...you can't ride a bike? I couldn't until I was like, 11, when my dad finally forced me to learn. ****lol. And...heck no that wasn't the last chapter! Why would I end it like that! Several more chappies to come! (I hope, lol)  
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I brought back Nigel again (yay!) and this whole chapter is in his POV from when Jordan was in the hospital until now, and then it goes a bit further.

Thankies again to all for the reviews so far. I'm enjoying writing this one almost as much as The Basement! Sorry once again for the long waits, like I said, I hope the next chapter will come a bit more quickly!

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Back to the Basement  
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**Chapter 7: He's After Her**

**- Nigel -**

"Nige, why is it so dark?"

I was more than a bit confused when I first heard her say this, though my confusion was almost immediately joined by the sense that something was terribly wrong. The hospital room was brightly lit, what I thought would be far too bright for someone just waking up after an experience like hers. And yet she held her eyes wide open. I answered her question truthfully, telling her that it was not dark in here at all. Her next words I will remember my whole life.

"Nigel," she whispered, "I think I'm blind."

The horror that came with that sentence is indescribable. It was at that moment that I knew all would change. And I was right.

I called the doctor in, who confirmed the worst, confirmed that Jordan, my Jordan, could no longer see. I stayed with her as he left. She cried, harder than I had ever seen her cry before, save when I was being hanged. I held her hand and tried to keep my own tears inaudible. I visited her every day after that, and even slept once or twice in the chair at her bedside. Others visited as well: her father, naturally, as well as Lily, Bug, and Garret. Woody tried a few times, but we always managed to keep him away. He was the last one Jordan needed a visit from.

She eventually left the hospital, and I took her home. I was to move in with her, for now at least. It broke my heart to watch the way she shuffled along, clinging to my arm as if for dear life. My poor girl. I knew exactly what she was going through. During the brief period that she and I had spent down in that basement, where it was pitch black and nothing could be seen, I discovered the meaning of blindness. I could only imagine what it'd be like to live with that degree of darkness every day, the way Jordan would most likely live from now on.

We spent that evening listening to music, before she became tired and I carried her to bed. I eventually fell asleep as well, though I was awoken not long after by the sound of her voice. She was tossing, moaning in her sleep, reaching for something that wasn't there.

"NO!" Her moans turned to yells as she began to flail her arms, almost smacking me in the face.

"Jordan!" I said loudly, taking hold of her still flailing arms and wrapping my own around her. She seemed to calm down then, pausing for a moment and breathing deeply, before collapsing into my arms, crying. I tried to comfort her, and then she spoke.

"I thought…I thought I was in the basement," she said shakily. "When I woke up it was black. I forgot, and I thought we were still down there…" Of course, I thought. She had obviously dreamt about the basement, and then woken up in darkness, forgetting that she was blind. It startled her, to say the least.

I tightened my grip on her and we sat there until she stopped crying. Then we lay back down and she fell asleep in my arms, though I lay awake.

I was grateful towards Dr. M for letting her stay at the morgue. True, she couldn't work her normal job anymore, but she was a help to me, working with me to answer unsolved questions during autopsies, and Garret continued to pay her full for it.

I could tell that he missed her old job however, as well as other things. Reading was one of them. I had never known that Jordan Cavanaugh enjoyed reading, though she did. She got books on CD to listen to, though I cold tell it wasn't the same. Some of the readers were dreadful, and not all of the books she wanted were available on CD, or even cassette. In these cases, I would read. I did my best to make it an enjoyable experience for her, and it seemed to work. She told me more than once that I was better than most of the readers she had ever listened to.

Yet I could tell that she felt guilty having me do it for her; it brought back an apparent sense of helplessness. I suggested that she learn brail, which would give her some independence back. We began learning together, though she mastered it a bit more quickly than I did. We both got it eventually, and she was happy about it, yet I still wanted to give her something more, a way to express herself.

This gave me an idea, and I sent a letter home to my Auntie Bea, who sent back an old brail typewriter. It had been given to her years ago by a blind friend of hers who didn't need it anymore, and she obviously had no use for it, so I requested for her to send it along. Jordan seemed thrilled, and took to trying it right away. At first I didn't pay much attention to what she wrote, leaving her to do what she would with it. Yet as she spent increasingly long amounts of time typing, I became curious and read, or rather felt, one of the pieces of paper that she had gone through, and was amazed.

She had been writing stories, and they weren't half bad. With her permission, I began typing and printing them on my computer to share with the others at the morgue. We agreed that she had found a new talent, and she became happier than I had seen her in a long time.

This newfound cheerfulness didn't stick around however as she began looking a bit depressed again. Nightmares continued to pop up every once in awhile, seemingly the same one every time, and it was obvious that she still felt useless at work. I was very surprised as she burst one day when I asked her to help me with an autopsy.

"You've said that I'm a 'big help'," she said angrily, "but we both know that I don't really do anything useful. If I were anyone else I wouldn't be here right now. Garret only kept me on because he feels sorry for me, only pays me because he knows I have nowhere else to go!"

I had no idea that she was feeling this bad, and decided it was the perfect time to show her some of the things that I had hidden up my sleeve. I took her home that afternoon and showed her how I had organized her money, and then brought out her new bicycle for the grand finale. It worked, she seemed instantly happy again as we sped through the park. I put the bike back on the bike rack outside when we returned, and turned around to find Jordan standing statue still, facing the sun with her eyes closed. I watched her sadly, and then put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She covered it with her own.

"Describe it to me," she said, her eyes still closed. I sighed and examined the scene before us, wondering how to best illustrate it for her.

"The sun's just starting to sink," I began, "so it hasn't quite turned color yet. It's still unbearably golden. The sky is a bright blue above our heads, and yet starts fading to violet towards the horizon. The trees are beginning to turn color as well, their leaves mostly light green with splashes of yellow or orange here and there. It's beautiful…" I stopped quickly and looked at her, horrified to see a tear making its way down her cheek. "I'm sorry love," I said, wrapping my arms around her. "I didn't mean to."

"It's alright," she said, brushing the tear away and turning to me. "Thank you. I needed to see it." I smiled sadly.

"You're welcome love." I leaned forwards and we kissed before we heading back inside, my arm around her.

She began asking me for descriptions often after that, mostly when we left for work, and then at random points throughout the day. It became almost a ritual, a routine. I painted the best pictures I could for her, and she seemed to take pleasure in being able to, for the first time in months, know her surroundings. Woody had stopped bugging her altogether, and I didn't hear from him for a very long time. Then one night, as I sat at my computer, the phone rang and I found his voice at the other end.

"What's up?" I asked casually, though confused as to why he was calling me.

"Nigel," came his rushed reply. "I need to talk to you about Jordan." I sighed.

"Can't you just give her a rest Woodrow?" I asked wearily.

"No, it's not like that," he said quickly. "She's in danger." I sat up straighter in my chair.

"What?"

"You know the guy you shot in DC? We had him checked out as soon as you guys sent the ID. It wasn't a random attack; she was targeted."

"How do you know?" I asked, frowning slightly.

"He was a member of Mitchell's gang, one of a few left to be brought in. There's only one still active right now, and he's been sighted in Boston." There was a pause, just long enough for my eyes to widen as I let this news sink in.

"Does Jordan know?" I asked weakly after a moment.

"I called her, but she hung up before I said three words. I know she won't listen to me, and she needs protection this time. This guy wants revenge, Nigel. He's after her." Another pause.

"I'll take care of her, Woody," I said. "I won't let her get hurt."

"I hope you don't."

He hung up, and I followed suit, breathing heavily as if I had just run a marathon. I jumped from my chair and left the office, taking long strides down the hall and quickly arriving at Jordan's office, where she sat at her typewriter.

"Jordan," I said frantically, moving to stand just behind her.

"Hey Nige," she said brightly, her fingers flying over the keys. Then she must have sensed something was up, because she stopped typing and turned to me. "What is it?" I sighed and lowered myself onto one knee, taking her hands in mine.

"Jordan," I began slowly, "you know the man who attacked you? The mugger?"

"Yeah, what about him?" she asked, rather stiffly I thought.

"He wasn't a mugger."

"What?"

"He was in Mitchell's gang. Now there's only one active member left, and he's in Boston." She froze, and I saw a rare look of fear flit over her face, before it was quickly stifled and replaced by a mask of defiance. "You need protection," I continued seriously. "I'm going to take you home for the night and tomorrow we'll go to the police." She opened her mouth as if to protest, but I cut her off. "It's not up for debate," I said. "Remember what happened last time?" She paused, sighed, closed her mouth, and then nodded silently. "C'mon love."

She stood, taking up her cane, and I led her out of the office. We stopped briefly to explain the situation to Dr. Macy, who let us go right away, telling us to take care of ourselves and to be careful.

We made our way quickly out of the morgue and to my car. I was glad that I had, for once, left my motorcycle at home; my gun was here in the glove compartment. We drove in silence, her left hand gripping my right, our fingers tightly intertwined. She didn't need my guidance as we stepped out into the chilly night air and walked into the apartment building, though her hand stayed in mine as I opened the door with my key and we entered, sitting down on the couch. I stood up again almost immediately.

"Damn," I muttered, frowning.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"I left my gun in the car." In my hurry to get Jordan safely into her apartment I had completely forgotten about the weapon still sitting in the glove compartment.

"Then go get it," she said, and then sensing my coming protest she added, "The guy could be anywhere in Boston. I think I'll be alright for five minutes." I gave a small smile.

"I'll be back in a moment," I said. I bent down to give her a swift kiss on the cheek before turning my back and walking briskly out the door.

It was about halfway down the hallway when something hard and solid swung out of nowhere and struck the side of my head. I fell to the floor and instantly lost consciousness.

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Hehe, had to leave you all with yet another cliffie! (Evil laugh)  



	8. Nowhere To Run

**cavanaugh-girl- yeah, it needed more than that. I still have a bit more after this though...hehe**

**Mac3- Thank you. We needed more Nigel. (Could always have more Nigel) It's fun to be evil to your favorite characters. Lol. **

**avi- Muahaha. Don't worry, I am. I just didn't want to make him _completely_ evil. **

Sorry again for the wait. I haven't had a lot of time for writing recently. In fact, I should be reading instead of posting this right now, I have a couple hundred pages due tomorrow! Oh well. Review please!**  
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**Back to the Basement  
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**Chapter 8: Nowhere To Run**

- Jordan –

I stood and walked carefully to the radio, flipping it to a familiar station and then heading into the kitchen, cane in hand, to make myself a cup of coffee. I hummed along with the music, smiling at the ease with which I worked. Then I heard the door open and footsteps in the other room.

_That was fast…_

"Hey Nige," I called, pulling my coffee from the microwave and adding sugar. He didn't answer, simply shut the door and began walking slowly in my direction. It was as I took my first sip that I got the sense that something wasn't right, and a second later I realized why. Because I had lost all sight my other senses had heightened, and I could tell just by listening that the one walking towards me was definitely not Nigel. Their steps weren't the same, though I had a pretty good idea of who it was.

I simply stood there, my back to the stranger, who had now entered the small kitchen, trying to look unaware of anything wrong as I continued to sip my coffee, though in truth I was thinking furiously. My cane was standing against the counter at my side. I didn't do anything yet, waiting for him to be in range, praying he wouldn't act before I could. I waited until he was just feet away before I grabbed and swung the cane behind me.

It worked, I heard him yell and something heavy hit the floor. I dove and picked up the gun as the intruder sprinted back into the main room. I stood and followed silently, gun pointing outward. Only one thing was going through my mind: where was Nigel? The intruder must've gotten in with a key, and the only way he could've gotten hold of one was to have taken Nigel's. Was he alright? What if the stranger shot him? I tried not to imagine the possibility as I strained to hear any sign of movement over the loud blaring of the radio.

"Gonna shoot me?" said a strange male voice from behind me. I spun and shot randomly in his general direction; if nothing someone might hear the blast. He laughed a cold cruel laugh from somewhere off to my left. "You missed." I spun again, but didn't shoot, wondering just how many bullets I could get from this gun. "You can't hurt me," he said tauntingly. "You're blind; you'll never hit me." I spun and shot again, He laughed a second time, moving near silently, circling me.

"Missed again," he said. I stopped trying to follow his movements and simply stood listening. He was somewhere behind me again. "I told you, you can't hit what you can't see." The radio continued to play ominously in the background.

"Where's Nigel?" I asked with as much authority as I could through my panic.

"The Brit with the long hair?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Where is he?" I asked again. "What did you do to him?"

"I don't believe that's really any of your concern right now," he replied. "Though I do believe I've had the pleasure of meeting him. Besides tonight that is."

"What?"

He laughed.

"A few months ago he came knocking on my door, looking for you as it were. I sent the man on his way, and then phoned up Alex."

"That was you?" I asked, shocked. Nigel had told us how Mitchell had somehow known of him beforehand.

"It was," he said in the same amused tone. "Of course I knew exactly where you were. I know where he took you Dr. Cavanaugh, and I know what he would have done to you. I know what he did to your friend." I was breathing heavily now, heart pounding loudly against my ribs. He was coming slowly nearer, closing in on me.

"Tell me," he said, "what was it like?"

"What?" I asked coldly.

"The basement of course," he answered. "What was it like to live in cold darkness, waiting to die?" As he said it, memories popped unwillingly into my head, as clear as photographs: Mitchell in my car, ordering me to drive at gunpoint; Mitchell forcing me into the basement and proclaiming his desire for revenge; the sound of Nigel crying in the dark, saying he was sorry; the feel of his warm embrace when he realized I was alive. How we never moved from our corner, holding each other for hours, wondering what our future held, and how Mitchell eventually revealed that we didn't have long to live. I saw Nigel standing on the small stool, rope tight around his neck, as we shared what we believed would be our last words, our last kiss. I failed to keep the tears at bay as I relived the moment, that terrible, desperate moment, when I realized that I had to kick the stool; that I had to kill him.

"It must be terrible," he continued "being blind. Living in darkness every day. Almost like living in the basement isn't it?" I shook my head, trying to clear it, to push him out. He laughed. "What's it like to know that you will never see light again?"

"Where's Nigel?" I asked yet again, though even to my own ears my voice sounded diminished, frightened.

"Your boyfriend's not here," he said menacingly. "You don't have him to lean on this time, to hold on to and hope he'll solve all your problems. You're alone in the dark with nowhere to run." He was really close now and still drawing nearer. I could hear his ragged breathing only feet behind me.

I turned and fired a final shot. He yelled and I heard him fall to the ground with a thump. I backed away quickly, breathing fast, shaking. Then I snatched up my cane from the kitchen and made my way out of the apartment. I had to find Nigel, find someone, anyone. Then I heard a faint pounding in the distance. I made my way along the wall towards it, and heard his voice. It was muffled, panicked.

"Help! Someone please help!" I quickened my pace, nearly running, listening as the sound got nearer. Then my hand slid across the face of a door I knew from memory was a closet. The pounding, along with Nigel's voice, was coming from inside. I ran my hands along its surface until I found the lock and opened the door. I heard Nigel's intake of breath somewhere near the floor.

"Jordan," he said, perplexed.

"Are you alright?" I asked, falling to my knees to make myself level with his voice. His hand reached out to brush my face gently.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. Got a bit of a headache, but…what happened?" I couldn't answer at first.

"I shot him," I said finally. There was a pause, and then I started shaking again. Nigel gently took the gun still clutched in my left hand and set it aside. Then he pulled me into his arms, and I relaxed against him. We just sat there for several minutes.

"Stay here," he said gently after awhile. I nodded and obeyed as he stood and made his way back in the direction of my apartment. I sat by the closet until he returned a few minutes later and sat down beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"He's dead," he said quietly. "I've called the police, and Dr. Macy. They'll be here soon." I nodded again.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"He ambushed me; whacked me over the head with something. I woke up in the closet." He reached over and gripped my hand. "I was so afraid for you, love," he said quietly. "You were alone and defenseless, and…" he faltered.

"Blind," I finished for him. He wrapped his arms back around me and held me to him.

"I was afraid for you too," I whispered. "I knew he'd taken your key. I was afraid he'd killed you." We sat there until the police arrived, followed by the morgue staff. Garret found us quickly and immediately took me into his arms.

"I thought I told you not to do this to me anymore," he said, and I gave him a small smile. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

"Nigel," I heard Bug's voice say to my right, "you're bleeding!" I turned a worried face towards the tall Brit.

"It's just a scratch," he said quickly. "Don't worry about it love."

"If you guys aren't hurt," said Garret, "I've got to go do my job." He gave me another hug and I heard him and Bug walk back to my apartment.

"You sure you're alright, love?" Nigel whispered as we followed them, his arm draped over my shoulders. I knew he didn't mean in a physical sense, and I took a moment before answering.

"I let him get to me," I said. "I let him get inside my head." Rarely did people get past my defenses, past the wall that I had built for myself years ago. He had tried, attempting to get control over me. He'd nearly succeeded.

"Perhaps," said Nigel, "but you won in the end, Jordan. It's why you're standing here now, and that's all that matters." He held me more tightly to him, and I lay my head against his shoulder

"Thanks Nige."


	9. Hope

**Xxx13 o'clock ErikxxX- Um, thanks. I've never been called sparkly before...**

**cavanaugh-girl- Lol. I get on all the time at school, though I usually don't have enough time to read much. I feel loved, just don't get fired cause of me. I'd be sad then.**

**rae1112- yes, he was in a closet. I wanted him near Jordan, and couldn't think of anywhere else to put him. sheepish smile**

**Mac3- Nigel shall always make it out okay...or shall he? lol.**

**Ms. Dita von Teese- Muahahaha.**

**peridotstone823- Thank you again.**

Alrighty, I guess I'll start with an apology. This was the longest delay yet. I just got so caught up with a whole bunch of other stuff that I never found time to finish this till now.

Anyways, I discovered that I ended the last chapter too soon, so the first bit is actually part of chapter 8. I'll move it back there after a little while, I just want people to have a chance to see it. Thank you all for being patient, hopefully chapter 10 will come a bit more quickly, and then we can finally wrap up the Basement stories. Not planning to write a third one, but there's a slim chance that could change.

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**- Jordan -**

The police finished up fairly quickly, carrying the body away and bidding us goodnight. Bug and Garret gave me another hug each and then followed. The renewed silence seemed fairly eerie.

"Where do you want to stay, love?" Nigel asked quietly after several long moments. "If you don't want to be here, I could take you to my place." I shook my head.

"The danger's gone," I said just as quietly. "Here is fine." He gave me a soft squeeze and we headed inside, Nigel leading me carefully around the crime scene and into the bedroom. We both changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. He wrapped his arms protectively around me and held both my hands, our fingers intertwining. I smiled and whispered, "I love you, Nige."

"I love you too Jordan," he replied. "More than anything."

**Chapter 9: Hope**

**- Jordan - **

I awoke suddenly, expecting to feel Nigel beside me, but he wasn't. I sat up in bed, listening, and heard the sounds of typing floating in from the other room. Carefully I slid out of bed and made my way in the direction of the doorway, my right arm stretched slightly in front of me. Then my fingers touched the edge of the half-open door, and I walked through.

"Nige?"

"Hey love," I heard him say from the couch. "Just doing some research on my laptop. Sit down." I did, and he pulled me up against him, setting the computer on both our legs.

"What'cha lookin for?" I asked curiously. There was a pause, and I sensed he was grinning.

"Well right now I'm just doing some extra searches for whatever else there is to find, but I've already got what I want," he said happily.

"What?"

He became suddenly serious. "You were lucky to survive last night, and I realized that something had to be done."

"You lost me."

"Your blindness," he said matter-of-factly, "has been a bit of a hazard lately."

"I'd noticed."

"I've been watching you struggle for months with everyday things, and it's only just now occurred to me to do something about it. So this morning I went online and looked up treatments and possible reversals for vision loss."

An eternity of silence seemed to go by, though I only paused long enough to catch my breath.

"A reversal?" I said. "You mean, a way to get my sight back?"

"Yep. And it took me all bloody morning…"

"But you found something?"

"Have I ever let you down?"

He began tying again, inhumanly fast it seemed. A few seconds later he said, "I looked everywhere, but at first could only find articles stating quite clearly that recovery of lost vision is only possible within the first month or two. Finally, I happened upon the site for a medical institution that claims to have 'only the most updated technology available.' According to this, they have developed a new procedure that can possibly reverse total blindness within the first six months." My eyes were wide as he finished, and I was speechless. I didn't want to give in to the feeling of relief and happiness threatening to overpower me; it seemed too good to be true.

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Detroit, Michigan."

"Well then, I guess we're going to Detroit." I replied determinedly. He chuckled softly.

"Yes," he said. "I guess we are."

We filled out and emailed an application to the center explaining our situation. A reply came the next day, stating that they'd be happy to see me, and we made an appointment at the next available opening, a month away.

We spent most of that month preparing for our trip. Money was going to be an issue, not just for the travel, but for the surgery. If they actually performed it, it would be pricy. We asked around at the morgue, and everyone enthusiastically agreed to contribute as much as they could. Dad insisted on helping also. I grew steadily more and more nervous as the date approached, and things were silent as we finally began packing the night before our departure, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

The plane ride seemed to take forever, though in truth it was only a few hours. I think Nigel slept nearly the whole way, neither of us having gotten a proper forty winks the night before. But I sat awake, wishing that I could see the clouds passing beyond the window, wondering what was coming. My greatest fear was that they would simply refuse to perform the operation, that they would tell me that my sight and I were beyond hope. I didn't know how I'd be able to bear coming home, how I would tell the others, if that happened. I knew that everyone was sitting by the phone (not literally) waiting anxiously for news, good or bad. They would be almost as disappointed as me if I was refused. Almost.

I woke Nigel as the plane began to descend. We got off together, our arms linked as he guided me carefully outside, where a chilly wind caught my hair. I shivered, snuggling into my coat. Nigel put his arm around me, and I lay my head on his shoulder. After we had finally gotten all of our luggage, which took an annoyingly long time, I was guided to the airport's front entrance and heard him call a cab.

Ten minutes later we pulled into what Nigel described as a rather small hotel. It was late, and by now I was tired enough to almost forget my nervousness. We both changed into pajamas, and climbed into bed. It was uncomfortable, but I fell asleep quickly.

I awoke with a stiff back and renewed uneasiness. Nigel wasn't there.

"Nige?" I called. He didn't answer. I slid out of bed, stretching, and then bent down to pick up my cane. Something was attached to it, a piece of paper. It was a note from Nigel. He had obviously gotten out the typewriter, which I had packed up and brought along. I ran my fingers over the dots and felt:

Jordan,

I went to get coffee, be back soon.

-Nige

I smiled slightly, then walked carefully to the table. I ran my hand horizontally about an inch above its surface, and immediately came into contact with the typewriter. I put the note down, and as I did so heard my cell phone ring where it lay on the bedside table. I made my careful way back across the small room and felt for it.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jordan."

"Hey Garret," I said, surprised.

"How are you?" he asked, a tad of worry just barely audible in his otherwise casual tone.

"Fine."

I knew he wouldn't buy it, and sure enough, he said, "You don't have to hide from me Jordan." I smiled, almost laughed.

"Not like I can anyways."

"No, not usually." My smile widened.

"How's everyone?" I asked him.

"Anxious," he replied seriously. "But they all wanted me to wish you luck, let you know their thoughts are with you."

"Thanks," I said. And then what I really wanted to know came forward without command. "And Woody?" There was a pause.

"He does too."

I didn't reply.

"He really does, Jordan."

"I know."

"And-" Garret hesitated. "And he's moving."

"What?"

"Back to Kewaunee. Apparently he's hooking up with an old girlfriend."

"Annie?"

"You'd know better than me."

"When's he leaving?" Another pause.

"He left this morning."

"So he's already in Wisconsin?"

"Probably," said Garret. "Look Jordan, I know he was a jerk. So did he. That's why he left. It was time to move on."

I nodded to myself. "It's for the best."

"He did want me to wish you luck though." I gave a small smile.

"Thanks Gar."

"No problem, Jordan. Listen, I gotta go. With my two best ME's gone things are a bit hectic. The chief ME's gotta try and stop all hell from breaking loose, and I'm feeling very sorry for the unlucky guy that got stuck with that job."

I laughed. "Bye Garret."

"Bye Jordan." I hung up, and then just sat in silence. So, Woody had moved. I tried to figure out how I felt about it. I should have been happy, relieved at the very least. I mean, I had run from Boston to DC, leaving everything, just to get away from him. Now I wasn't sure. But I had meant it when I told Garret that it was for the best. It was truly time to move on.

It was at that moment that I heard the door open and Nigel enter the room. "Hey love," he said cheerfully. "I brought Starbucks!" I smiled slightly as he handed me a warm cup.

"Thanks Nige." I took a careful sip, and sighed heavily. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Well," he replied, "there's almost twenty-four hours before your appointment, so we've got some time to kill." I nodded.

"Alright then, what's there to do around here?"

**- Nigel -**

I'd been doing a lot of research in the weeks that led up to our trip, and knew exactly what there was to do. It was a warm day, and I took her to an amusement park, where we spent the hours speeding on the coasters and other rides. It was as the sun began to set and it drew close to closing time that we decided to end the day with a relaxing Ferris wheel ride. We stood in the short line and clambered on as our turn came. The small door swung shut with a snap and we began to rise. A light breeze blew both our hair back as we neared the top. We stopped as we reached it. I had my arm around Jordan and she gripped my other hand. It was so tranquil, so peaceful, and I only wished that Jordan could have seen the setting sun.

"Nige," she said, as if on queue, "describe it to me?" I gave a small smile, and then began the routine.

"The sun's setting, sinking below the water way out in the distance. It's blood red, surrounded by an orange glow, but not so bright as will hurt your eyes. It's the kind of sun that, even though you know you shouldn't, you can't help but stare at, because it's so perfect and beautiful. The rest of the sky is pink, with the occasional cloud streaked here and there. The water is dark and calm, each sapphire wave painted with a strip of shining silver, and the specs of a few boats are still visible. The sand is an orange-beige color and covered with the footprints of today's visitors, as well as the odd person still walking along the shoreline."

I looked back at her. Jordan's eyes were closed, an almost-smile lingering on her lips. I pulled her closer to me, and she opened her eyes. I stared sadly into them, wishing that they would suddenly work, that she would suddenly be able to see. Then her hands moved up to my neck, and I was leaning forwards, bending as she pulled me downwards and herself upwards. We continued to kiss even as the ride began to move again, bringing us swiftly downwards, and we were back at the top when we pulled away. She was smiling and looked truly happy. She raised her right hand and traced my smiling lips. I brought my hand to hers and she held it tightly.

"I love you Nige," she said.

"I love you too, Jordan," I replied. "More than anything." Her smile widened.

"How many times have you said that now?" she asked.

"Not nearly enough." I brought my face to hers and we kissed again as the sky began fading slowly into darkness.

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Woot! Michigan! Anyways, review please! 


	10. Old Endings, New Beginnings

**pryrmtns- hehe, you said limey! Lol, sorry. Random moment. **

**rave- hey, it was begging to be written, and I couldn't work on BTTB under the circumstances. I updated quicker this time, and actually would have updated even quicker-er if it would have actually let me submit the document! Grr. I hate colds too. **

** Ms. Dita von Teese- hehe, yeah that's a funny line. Felt so bad for Bug in that episode… **

** cavanaugh-girl- Yeah, I figured that I really needed him to go away, and decided to show a spec of mercy and give him someone to go back to. It'll keep his mind off Jordan at the very least. **

WOOT! Last chapter! (And a rather long one at that!) Thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews, feels great for a little bitty teen like myself to get reviews from all the big people. (And I mean that literally: I'm really short for my age!) Anyways, sorry again for the long delays, had some trouble keeping up. I really hope you enjoyed the Basement stories, and please, review! I don't really care if it's two years after this is posted, I'll still appreciate them!

Without further delay:

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**Back to the Basement **

**Chapter 10: Old Endings, New Beginnings**

**- Jordan -**

Both of us were nervous as we made ready to leave the next day. I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt as we sat, squeezed into the small cab on our way to the medical center. Eventually we turned, and then stopped soon after. Nigel got out first and opened the door for me. Then he took my arm and carefully led me up a paved road and through a doorway into the rather warm building. We walked carefully across a carpeted floor, into and out of an elevator, until I was guided softly into a chair. I sat down nervously, crossing my legs and fiddling with my cane. The occasional cough and rustle of a magazine told me that we weren't the only ones in the room.

Five, maybe ten long minutes passed, before I finally heard my name and was led forwards. My shoes made sharp clicking sounds as they ventured onto a hard surface. We stopped and I heard a door open. We moved inside, where I was placed in yet another chair.

"Ms. Cavanaugh?" said a male voice somewhere in front of me. I smiled in its general direction, attempting to conceal how nervous I was. "And this is?"

"Nigel Townsend," said Nigel. I heard them shake hands.

"I'm Dr. McPhiliman; I work in the new ophthalmology department." I reached out my hand and he shook it as well. He had a very firm grip. "I'll be happy to do whatever I can for you two."

"Thank you."

He proceeded to ask me all sorts of questions; where I worked, my medical history, how I'd lost my sight, and how long ago that was. Eventually he led me down the hall to have some x-rays done, and then reviewed them out loud with Nigel and I. He said that the hit with the shovel caused blood to form a clot, which did further damage to some of the nerves controlling my vision. Once they removed the clot they'd be able to try to repair the damage and, if all went well, restore my sight. I listened nervously to all that was said. He made it sound simple, but I couldn't suppress the butterflies that had taken flight in the pit of my stomach. We scheduled the surgery for the following morning, a lot sooner than I'd expected.

We headed back to our hotel room soon after, and I didn't know if I was more or less nervous than before. At least I knew that the surgery would definitely be performed, that I at least had a chance. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. We spent most of it contacting everyone and explaining what was going on. Lily, Bug, and Garret were all thrilled, wishing me the best of luck and making us swear to call them the instant there was news. Nigel and I spent another almost sleepless night, thinking of the morning ahead.

**- ­Nigel -**

I led her back into the center early that morning, where the fate of her sight and future lay. Not that we'd give up if this wasn't a success. Hell, I'd fly her halfway across the face of the Earth if that's what it took, yet it'd be a lot easier if this worked. Dr. McPhiliman was already there as we entered the waiting area, and took us immediately where he had introduced himself the previous afternoon.

"Morning," he said brightly. "How are you feeling Ms. Cavanaugh? Bit nervous?" She nodded silently. I put my hand on her shoulder. She wasn't the only one.

"Alright, we should start then. Ms. Cavanaugh, I'll lead you down the hall, Mr. Townsend, you may want to come back a bit later; the procedure can take awhile." I nodded. "I'll be right back as soon as we're sure things are in order." He left, and I turned to Jordan. She looked pale. I brushed her cheek lightly with my right hand.

"Don't worry about it, love," I said softly and reassuringly. "Everything's going to be alright. I'll always be here for you. Always." I pulled her into a soft embrace, stroking her hair gently as she clung to me. "It'll be alright."

"Thanks Nige," she whispered. Dr. McPhiliman came in at that moment and informed us that things were ready and it was time for us to part. I gave her one last encouraging squeeze, and then watched as he led her away from me. I sighed and made my way back into the waiting room.

He'd been right; the procedure took a very long time.

I didn't really have anywhere to go, so I sat at first in the waiting room, flipping uninterestedly through all the magazines. After about half an hour, I exited the building and stood just outside; pulling out my cell to inform the others that Jordan had entered surgery. Then I made my way back into the waiting room. After another hour of just sitting there, I eventually got up and left the hospital again to get a cup of coffee. I went to the same Starbucks I'd visited our first morning in Detroit. Unable to face sitting at the hospital again, I stayed in the coffee shop. When my drink was gone, I went back up to the counter and bought a sandwich, purely for something to do. When the sandwich too was gone, I sat there and fiddled with its paper wrapping. It only took five minutes of this to get me thoroughly bored, and I pulled out the ipod conveniently resting in my coat pocket. If my phone hadn't been set to vibrate, I never would have realized it rang.

Quickly I fumbled to pick it up and turn off my music at the same time. Needless to say, this didn't work, so I simply pulled off my headphones and let them dangle around my neck, still playing loudly, as I answered the phone.

"Townsend," I said breathlessly. It was Dr. McPhiliman who answered, informing me that Jordan had finished surgery. My heart seemed to skip a few beats, and I told him I'd be right over. I willed the taxi to go faster as we sped through the city towards the hospital. I jumped out upon arrival, almost forgetting to pay the man, and sped towards the entrance like a maniac, all of my focus on Jordan. I nearly ran someone over as I burst through the doors, apologizing hurriedly as I almost sprinted to the elevator and rode up to the second floor waiting room. Dr. McPhiliman, where was once again waiting. I speed-walked over and asked, panting, where Jordan was. He smiled and told me that she was resting.

"Did it work?" I asked. "Can she see?"

"We don't know yet," he replied. "Her eyes are bandaged, and she'll need to stay like that for a few days. We'll know if it worked as soon as we take them off." I nodded and he took me to a small room off the main hallway, where she lay, asleep it seemed, in a white bed. I walked in quietly and pulled a chair to her side, sitting down and gazing at her as the doctor left us alone. She had long bandages wrapped around her eyes, covering them completely, and looked so frail, the way she always did in a hospital bed. I took her hand gently in mine, stoking the back of it with my thumb, praying that it worked, that when they took those bandages off, she'd be able to see again.

I stayed in her room until she woke up a few hours later, when I wrapped my arms tightly around her. She returned the embrace weakly. I spent every day in her room after that. We passed the time together, ate together, and I even slept in the chair at her bedside. We tried to keep our thoughts off what was coming, yet it always floated just at the surface of our consciousness, like a bad taste that won't fade. We could never quite forget it.

It was a Tuesday, three days after the surgery, when Dr. McPhiliman came in and informed us that the moment of truth had arrived, that Jordan could finally take her bandages off. I held her hand tightly as he dimmed the lights slightly and closed the door. She sat up strait as he began to undo and unwind each layer. Time seemed to slow as each piece was stripped away to reveal another, and it felt like there would be no end. Finally, only one remained.

"Want to do the honors Mr. Townsend?" he asked.

"Is that alright, love?" I asked tentatively. She nodded. I reached forward and slowly peeled away the last bandage, revealing her eyes. They were closed and slightly bruised looking. I resumed holding her hand, and she gripped it tightly. I looked to the doctor and he nodded. This was truly it.

"Open your eyes, love," I said quietly. She paused, taking a slow, deep breath, and then her eyelids fluttered open.

**- Jordan -**

I waited patiently as layer upon layer of bandage was removed from my face, until finally I had felt it thin to the point where only one was left. Nigel removed it, but I kept my eyes shut tightly, fearing what would come, fearing failure.

This was it. This was the moment I would know which way things would turn. I would either be given my life back, or live what was left of it helpless and alone in the dark.

"Open your eyes, love," I heard Nigel say, and with the softness of his voice, something snapped into place.

I would never be alone in the dark. I hadn't been the only one to suffer in that basement, Nigel had been there. He knew what I was going through, and he'd always be there, no matter what happened. I'd always have the memory of his face, the warmth of his arms, and the softness of his touch. This in mind, I took one last breath, and then slowly opened my eyes.

I blinked, and squinted in the light.

The light?

Yes! It hurt, made everything indistinguishable, but it was there, and I welcomed it like an old friend. The more I kept my eyes open, the more I could make out. I looked around, taking in the room; the white walls and door, the single window with sunlight shining cheerfully through, Dr. McPhiliman standing a few feet away, and Nigel, leaning over me and looking down with a worried expression.

"Love?" he said cautiously. I looked him strait in the eyes, smiling, and after a moment a grin appeared on his lips as well. Then he took me in his arms and held me to him, tears falling down his face as well as mine. "Jordan," he whispered. "Oh Jordan."

"It worked," I whispered back. "It worked. I can see…"

I never wanted to blink again, but wanted to keep my eyelids firmly in place for the rest of eternity, to take in everything and everyone without end. It was like the world had reopened itself to me, like I had stepped out of the basement, slamming its door and walking away for good.

Nigel pulled out his phone the moment we cleared the hospital steps, dialing up everyone to tell them the news: the surgery was successful and I could see again! I heard Lily cheering from the phone in his hand.

We packed up our stuff back at the hotel (I chuckled slightly while putting away the typewriter) and took the next flight back to Boston, arriving in the early evening. To my great surprise, and Nigel's too judging by the look on his face, everyone was waiting for us at my apartment. (Apparently someone had a spare key.) Lily threw her arms around me upon entrance, teary eyed and grinning. Garret and Bug gave me a hug each as well. I beamed at them all, overjoyed at being able to see their faces again. We spent the night celebrating; eating, drinking, and enjoying ourselves for hours into the evening, and it was almost midnight when Garret had gone and Lily, dragging a drunken Bug, finally stumbled out the door.

Getting up for work the next morning, something I had never loved in the past, today was an exciting event. I arrived at the morgue in high spirits. For the first time in months, I could walk on my own; my cane had become a useless tool. I could do my own work as well, and perform autopsies again, though Nigel and I still worked them together. I took a lot more pleasure in the simplest of things; never again would I take them for granted. About the only thing to which this didn't apply was paperwork. No way I'd ever come close to enjoying paperwork.

I'd had to get much stronger contacts as well, but that was no big deal. Like Nigel had said what seemed like so long ago: a small price to pay. It was one of only a few lasting effects that Mitchell had had on my life, both good and bad, though the latter easily outdid the former. The scar on Nigel's neck was one, though not nearly as large as my increasingly deep emotional scar. This was perhaps the largest one: the experience, the memory. I felt like I'd been through it all now, and it would still take a long while to heal. I'd lived in a cold and dark world, and then watched someone I love come within inches of death. I'd come so close to death again myself and spent months without sight, months of feeling helpless, months of reliving the basement. I was attacked again, and yet again forced to relive these horrors. Three near-death experiences in all.

I had to admit, not all of it was bad. I'd discovered a new talent, writing, and was even now working on a novel. I'd learned to read brail, which was pretty much useless to me now, but it couldn't hurt, right? Then of course was my relationship with Nigel. They say old habits die hard, which is oh-so-true. But my commitment issues had surfaced very little when it came to Nigel and I, and not nearly enough for me to push away. I felt safe with him somehow, perhaps because he had been such a dear friend for such a long time. The trust had already existed; it was already there.

Perhaps the bad didn't smother the good after all.

Yet one effect that I was still completely confused about was Woody's departure. I couldn't work out if it was a plus or minus, which made things all the more peculiar when he called me a week after my return to Boston. I was sitting at my desk when the phone rang, doing paperwork that I could no longer avoid.

"Cavanaugh."

"Jordan?"

"Woody?" There was an awkward pause, in which I considered if I should hang up or not. I decided not to, to let him say whatever it was he had called to say.

"You're not hanging up on me?" he asked as if he had read my mind.

"I'm in a tolerant mood."

"Oh…ok." He sighed. "I called to congratulate you, and to apologize. I heard you got your sight back."

"Oh…thanks."

"But I realized," he continued, "that it was my fault you lost it in the first place."

"Well, if I hadn't hung up on you…"

"You had a right to hang up on me. I was an idiot. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, and that from now on, I'm giving you space…about a thousand miles of it. Oh, and-" He hesitated, then sighed. "And I'm gonna take anger management. I don't want to hurt anyone else." He paused, as if he expected a retort.

"I've taken it too," I said lightly.

"How'd you do?"

"Flunked." He chuckled.

"Can you forgive me? Even a little bit?" I thought for a moment.

"On one condition: you take back what you said about Nigel being a stalker."

"Oh," he said, a bit surprised, but answered honestly. "I take it back. I was just jealous. I didn't mean it."

"Then I forgive you." There was another pause.

"So," he said slowly, "I guess this is goodbye." I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess it is."

"Goodbye then Jordan," he replied. "And good luck."

"Bye Woody." He hung up. I set down the phone and sighed, but smiled. Now that the call, the apology, the forgiveness, had been established and done with, things were a lot clearer. It was best that he had left, best for the both of us. We could truly move on with our lives now. We'd just needed closure.

I heard a knock at the door, and then turned to watch Nigel enter my office. "Hey love," he said cheerfully with the grin that I loved so much. "You wanna take lunch with me?" I smiled back up at him.

"Of course." I stood and followed him out the door. "You're saving me from paperwork." He laughed as we entered the elevator. "I know I've said it a lot Nige, but thanks."

"For what, love?"

"I dunno, for being there for me; for being…you." I leaned closer to him and he put an arm around me.

"I'll always be me, Jordan. And at least things are back to normal now, or as normal as they can ever be around here."

"Depends on how you define normal."

"I guess your right." He smiled at me. "So how would you currently describe things? Besides normal?" I thought for a moment.

"They are as they should be," I said.

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out together, his arm still around me, heading towards to front doors to where his motorcycle sat waiting. We stopped on the side walk, staring at it. At least, he was staring at it. I was staring at him, and after a moment he met my gaze. I moved closer and raised my left arm up to his neck, lightly tracing the scar there with my index finger. He smiled, then took my hand in his, holding it gently.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked. I thought for a moment, then smiled.

"McDonalds."

He laughed. "McDonalds it is, love." We both slipped on helmets as we climbed aboard, and the bike's engine roaring to life as we took off, speeding to a place of both old and new beginnings.

**THE END

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Thanks again to all who made me feel confidant about my first two full-length fanfics! I have another one on the way! Until then, see u!**  
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